


Catch Me When I Fall

by SassyStarboard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ice Skating, M/M, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Pack Dynamics, Pack Fluff (Teen Wolf), Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: The pack goes on a group ice skating date, Scott and Isaac need some serious help, and Stiles’ skating skills strike fear in Derek’s overly concerned heart. Unfortunately, werewolves were not made for ice skates
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 215





	Catch Me When I Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Had a vision of Mini-Stiles learning to be awesome at ice skating because he wanted to impress Lydia and it just evolved from there. Enjoy!! Lmk what you think in the comments!!

Stiles wishes there was an explanation for the atrocity he’s being forced to witness. Watching people suffer in such an innocent way is objectively hilarious, and honestly suggesting a group date at the ice rink is probably the best idea he’s ever had. The one thing Stiles doesn’t understand is why all of them are so _terrible_. It’s uncanny. 

“Okay, I _have_ to know.” Stiles grinned, barely managing to hold back his laughter. “Is there something about being a werewolf that makes you absolutely shitty at ice skating? Because _damn_.”

It also happens to be the funniest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“I hate you.” Isaac growled at him, his hands gripping the side rail for dear life. Behind him, Scott leaned against the wall of the indoor ice skating rink with his arms crossed, pouting as he kept a careful eye on Isaac. Scott was a grown man wearing a fluffy wolf hat with built-in mitten paws that Allison had gotten him for Christmas last year, and he looked infuriatingly cute.

“When you said we were going somewhere cool,” Scott’s lengthy mitten paws were wrapped around his neck like a scarf, “I thought you meant we were gonna play laser tag again.”

“Ice skating is _cool_.” Stiles smirked, the artificial cold stinging his cheeks. “So cool it’s like ice.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Isaac whined. “I’m trying not to die over here. I need you to shut up.”

“Make me, bitch.” Stiles shot back, laughing as he skated backwards out of range from Isaac’s vengeful reach. Isaac had swiped at him, a grave mistake. The momentum from his missed hit made him fall forward and, in a panic, Isaac grabbed onto the ears of the wolf hat and dragged Scott down with him. It was embarrassingly hilarious. Stiles cackled and skated away, cutting around them to make it back to the entrance to help his boyfriend. 

Viciously cheerful, Stiles merrily skated over to Derek, who was standing in the middle of the entrance and staring at Scott and Isaac with extreme concern.

“ _What_ are they doing?” Derek had finally gotten his skates on and had his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. Scott and Isaac were standing now, but the two of them were clutching each other like they were joined at the hip. Isaac was even wearing one of Scott’s mittens. Farther down, Boyd and Erica were fairing a bit better. They looked happy, the two of them holding hands while Boyd helped Erica shuffle around the rink, never straying too far from the edge. Allison and Lydia were spiraling around each other in the center, graceful and stunning––the polar opposite of Scott and Isaac. Stiles watched their fumbling with a grimace, wincing as the two of them barely avoided running over a stray child. 

“Flailing.” Stiles answered. “Lucky for you, I happen to be a _great_ skater.” 

“Really?” Derek’s eyes ran over Stiles with a disdainful air of disbelief, probably remembering all the times Stiles had crashed into inanimate objects or tripped over thin air. 

“I am!” Stiles protested. “I’m serious, Der. I’ll help you out. Mini Stiles was a _beast_ at skating, I promise. I took hockey lessons for eight years.”

“I’m guessing your dad wouldn’t let you take figure skating?” Derek raised an eyebrow, his head nodding to the middle of the rink. Stiles followed his gaze across the ice, to where Lydia was pirouetting in the center circle like a winter goddess, dancing and twirling as if she was the only one on the ice. Embarrassed, Stiles ducked his head, hiding the lower half of his face in his scarf. It was a Ravenclaw scarf, a long striped one Melissa had knitted for him for Hanukkah and it was his first time wearing it out. Unsurprisingly, it was absolutely perfect. 

“No, he would not.” Stiles said quietly, tugging his matching Ravenclaw beanie back down over his ears. “But now I can help you! Yay Derek!”

“I’m not _that_ bad.” Derek said, mentally comparing his own feeble but passable skills with the grainy phone-recorded video Scott had shown him in the car. The tiny screen had displayed an infuriatingly graceful vision of seventeen year old Lydia letting sixteen year old Stiles catch her in a truly spectacular airlift, and it had done absolutely nothing to ease his frustration. “I can skate, I just . . . it’s cold.”

Stiles snorted. “Awww, it’s okay Mr.Wolfy. I’ll keep you warm and snuggly.”

“I don’t like that voice.” Derek said sharply.

“Gasp! Is someone nervous?”

“Did you just _say_ the word gasp?”

“No! Let’s go! Hooray for skating!” Stiles clapped. He was wearing womens gloves he’d had to borrow from Erica and he was pretty bummed they’d fit over his hands. Were his fingers really that skinny? “Onward, ho!”

Stiles looped his arm through Derek’s, then gingerly helped him step over the edge and onto the ice. They were wobbly at first, but Derek seemed to pick it up pretty fast. Thank god, because Stiles did not want his super cute winter date idea to be ruined by grumpy Derek. Much like Stiles, Derek had a habit of getting frustrated when he wasn’t good at something, and passive aggressive sniping was a serious mood-killer.

“You got it.” Stiles said gently, his eyes trained on Derek’s skates. “I got you, come on.”

“I can do it.” Derek muttered, annoyed. He sort of could, actually. He wasn’t a master figure skater, but he was handling the ice better than Boyd and Erica and he was certainly doing better than Scott and Isaac, who had probably fallen at least twice since Stiles had last seen them. Still, Stiles couldn’t resist teasing.

“Oh? You can do it? Want me to let go then?” Stiles threatened, loosening his grip.

“No.” Derek said quickly, his skates stuttering as he pulled Stiles back in. “Don’t. I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Oh? That’s what I _thought_ you said.”

“Stop making that weird fake surprise noise.” Derek grumbled, his concentration locked on to staying balanced. Stiles laughed, causing Derek to tighten his grip on his arm.

“It’s okay, Derek. I won’t let you fall.” Stiles kissed Derek’s cheek. Derek gripped Stiles’ arm even tighter as he slipped up a bit, the tiny little kiss breaking his concentration.

“It’s not—” Derek cut off, clenching his jaw with a grunt when his shoulder hit the side of the rink, “—not even my fault. I would be fine if we were outside.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles frowned, watching Derek’s expression for clues as he helped him straighten up. They had a decent pace going now, slowly but safely making their way around the ice.

“It’s too bright.” Derek grumbled. “And loud. I feel like I’m in an echo chamber. And the ice smells like chemicals and cleaning solutions. It’s just––it’s not that bad, it’s just hard to get used to. I’m . . . disoriented. Forget it, I should get over it soon. I know you were excited about this.”

“Derek,” Stiles stopped, gently pulling them off to the side, “babe, you should have said something. We totally could have gone skating outside.”

“In California?” Derek scoffed. Stiles sighed. Derek pursed his lips, then squeezed Stiles’ gloved hand. “I like it, Stiles. It was a good idea.”

“Oh yeah, awesome idea, sensory overload is super romantic.” Stiles groused, visibly annoyed with himself. Derek winced, already regretting his words. He shouldn’t have said anything, he’d probably just ruined their date by making Stiles think _he’d_ ruined their date. _Shit_.

“It’s fine,” Derek promised, “I just need a bit of time to adjust, but I should be used to it once I’ve been out here for a while. It’s okay.” It really was okay, because he knew from experience that he would grow accustomed to the artificial surroundings after about ten minutes or so. But Derek still felt guilty for bringing it up, especially with the scolding look Stiles had given him at his admission.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked timidly, obviously still concerned. Derek nodded seriously, taking a moment to reclaim Stiles’ gloved hand.

“Yes.” He said. “It’s already getting better, I promise.”

“But are . . . are you sort of having fun, at least?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“I’m handling it better than Scott and Isaac.” Derek gave a quiet, barely there laugh under his breath, looking up from the ice to check on the others. Stiles hummed, thinking. Then––

“Oh my god, I was right!” Stiles burst out, snorting. “Being a werewolf _does_ make you shitty at ice skating. Ha!”

“Say _werewolf_ a little louder, Stiles. I don’t think they heard you in Mexico.” Derek hissed, tensing up and surveying their surroundings for suspicious characters. Stiles laughed, then maneuvered himself around the ice until he was standing in front of Derek. He beamed, and leaned forward to kiss the tip of Derek’s nose. Derek drew back in surprise, his nose wrinkling as his ears flushed red with embarrassment.

“I don’t like that.” Derek mumbled, a blatant lie. Stiles gave him a pointed look. Derek huffed. “I don’t. Shut up.”

“Oh Derek, I don’t listen to liars.” Stiles warned, teasing. Derek was absurdly easy to read if you knew him like Stiles did, and right now Derek was seriously struggling not to smile back at him. Whoever had told Derek that he wasn’t allowed to smile was an asshole, because Derek’s smile was the cutest fucking thing Stiles had ever seen.

Stiles watched as Derek bit the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking something over. Derek let out a slow breath, a white fog in the air between them, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. Surely it didn’t look like much, but it was the most outright display of affection Derek had ever managed with so many strange people around, and Stiles’ heart positively melted with delight.

“I love you.” Derek said softly, too quiet for anyone but Stiles to hear.

“I love you too.” Stiles promised, beaming. Derek nodded, inwardly reassuring himself. He looked around the rink, searching through the other skaters before his eyes landed on where Boyd was guiding Erica around the middle ring. They were holding hands.

“Hold my hand.” Derek ordered, scowling. “And don’t let me fall.”

“So demanding.” Stiles rolled his eyes, taking Derek’s hand with an audible sigh. Then they started moving again and suddenly Derek was terrified because Stiles was skating backwards and _holy shit, he’s going to kill himself._

“Stop that!” He hissed, immediately concerned. “Face forward! You’re going to fall!”

“Absolutely I will not.”

Yes, you will.” Derek said, skeptical as Stiles guided him, their gloved fingers woven together in Derek’s unnecessarily tight grip.

Stiles gasped in mock offense. “Why Der-Bear, what do you take me for?”

“An asshole.” Derek teased, which was fair.

Stiles considered this, then gave his boyfriend an evil grin. "Oh, you’re asking for it now.”

“What?” Derek asked, suddenly far more worried. “What does that mean?”

“I feel like you’ve adjusted pretty well to the rink by now, would you agree?” Stiles’s tone was light and innocent, his eyes utterly full of deceit.

“Yes?” Derek answered hesitantly.

“Ha!” Stiles let go, kissed Derek’s cheek, then darted back and quickly skated away––still fucking backwards––to join Lydia and Allison in the center. “Catch me if you can!”

“Wait! Stiles!” Derek held his hands out for balance, then hopelessly slid over to the railing for support. “Fuck. Stiles! Come back! You can’t . . . _shit_.”

_“Catch me!”_


End file.
